


Captured

by Qwerty2000



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Broken Arya, Dark Jon Snow, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-05-15 20:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19303657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qwerty2000/pseuds/Qwerty2000
Summary: What if Arya never escaped Kings Landing. What if instead she was bought right into the hands of the Lannisters. But most importantly, how would Jon react when he finds out.





	1. Arya I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, thank-you for clicking on my work.  
> As seen by the description, this story is about how Arya is captured in Kings Landing and what Jon does afterwards. This story takes aspects of the books and tv show, but overall diverges from both into my own work. I ask you to give my work a try to see if you like it. :)  
> More tags will be added as the story continues.  
> Note that this is my first ever work so I hope that nothing is wrong.

Kings Landing 297 AC 

Tears running down her face, a hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her through the cheering crowd. Her father had been beheaded by Ser Ilyn Payne on Joffrey's orders. She didn’t know who was taking her, but she didn’t care. Let it be the Kingsguard, or the Prince. At this time she couldn’t fight back and would be effortlessly taken.

“Come with me girl.”

The man had dark hair going down to his shoulders. Stubble clung to the side of his stoney face complementing his rugged look. Arya recognised this man but couldn’t tell where from. As they travelled through the crowd Arya finally spoke.

“Where are you taking me,” she said, taking a breath between her sobs so that he could understand her.

“I’m taking you somewhere safe. If you stay here you’re as good as dead.” the stranger replied in a low voice, quiet enough so that no-one else would hear. 

She was going to be safe. She wiped the tears of her cheeks and regained control of her body. If she was going to survive this she had to be strong. They finally emerged from the crowd to head down an alley. The streets of Kings Landing were filthy as always, with homeless scattered everywhere. A life so bad that they didn’t even care what all the commotion was about.

Once out of sight, the man bent down to her height and pulled out a knife from its sheath. He grabbed a hold of her head and for a moment Arya thought he was about to harm her. 

“I’m going to fix your hair. If you’re going to come with me you’ll have to look like a boy.”

Even though his words were reassuring, she didn’t calm, as he started hacking lumps of hair off of her head. Not that she cared too much for it beforehand anyway.

“You listen here boy, my name is Yoren. I’m taking you back to Winterfell, but for now you’re going to have to do as I say.” 

‘He’s taking me home’ Arya thought to herself. Why is he be doing this for me?

“Did you know my father,” Arya choked out still traumatized over what had happened.

“Not to well. I know your Uncle Benjen better. He’s one of my fellow brothers at the Night's Watch.”

The thought of the Night's Watch made her think of Jon. How she wished that he could be here with her right now. He could hold her and tell her that everything would be okay. He’d know what to do.

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind her.

“Where do you think you are going with her?” 

Arya turned seeing the smug face of Ser Meryn Trant followed by half a dozen men behind him. Arya felt her body freeze. Both anger and fear filling her body.

“Nothing to see here,” Yoren announced. “Just gathering boys to join the Night's Watch.” 

“Bullshit,” Trant spat. “Do you take me for a fool? That is Arya Stark you have there and I doubt that you are unaware of it.” 

Yoren looked down at Arya then back up at the men.

“I’m sure you are mistaken. I found this boy rummaging the streets. Once he is taken North he will start a new life and earn respect from his fellow brothers.”

Trant lurked forward grabbing Aryas face, bringing it closer to his own. Arya stood strong looking into his eyes. She could not let him see the fear in her. 

Trant took a few steps back and began to speak.

“Men, grab the girl and kill the man.”

The men drew their swords as Arya let out a cry. She tried to grab for needle but it was no use. By the time her hand was at her waist she was knocked to the ground by one of the men towering over her. The man grabbed her, pulling her back up to her feet. Arya searched for Yoren to see him dueling two men. He repelled their attacks quite well but it wasn’t enough. A sword plunged through his stomach and he fell to the ground. Blood staining the ground. Arya heard a snigger and turned to Trant who had a devilish grin on his face. He began to laugh, then finally spoke.

“How are you going to escape now girl? Your saviour is dead.”

Arya struggled trying to break free but it was no use. Her arms were held behind her back by one of the guards. Tears started to stream down her face as she tried to remember Syrio’s words. ‘Fear cuts deeper than the sword, fear cuts deeper than the sword,’ but it was no use. When the Prince saw her, fear was definitely not going to cut deeper as the sword.

“Look at her squirming,” Trant laughed at her, getting right in her face for the second time. 

A sudden fury overtook Arya as she kicked him in the shin bringing an angry expression to his face. As much as she enjoyed it she knew that she would regret it.

“You little bitch!” shouted Trant, anger consuming his eyes. “How dare you touch me!” 

Arya remained silent looking into his eyes. As much as he disliked her he wouldn’t lay his hands on her, would he? He was an anointed knight.

Trant glared at her and spoke. 

“Take her to Joffrey, that’ll teach her for disrespecting me.”

The guards started taking her away. Arya let out a shout at Trant but he just smiled at her, finding joy in her struggles. 

“You’re a bloody murderer,” Arya screamed. “You killed Syrio when he had nothing but a stick! A real knight would never act as you have.”

“Wait,” Trant spoke.

His voice was calm yet it came out threatening. The men stopped and Trant walked over to Arya, baring his teeth at her. Anger written across his face.

“You question my worthiness of being a knight? I tell you now that that bloody water dancer would kill for even a fraction of the respect that I have. He was a joke.” 

Arya knew that she should shut up but her mouth was betraying her.

“Syrio was kind and caring about others. Your just a heartless monster. No-one will ever love you.”

From the twitch across his face she could see that she had struck a nerve. Before she knew what was happening a fist struck the side of her head, making her fall to the ground for the second time in their encounter. Arya sat up touching the side of her head but what she didn’t expect came next. Another blow, this time to her jaw, followed by a kick to the stomach. After a while the hits lost their effect as everything went black.


	2. Jon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A time jump to the battle of the bastards, where Jon's story will be diverging from the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive if anything doesn't make sense.

Winterfell 303 AC

The sound of his fist against Ramsey's face was like music to his ears. Each punch filling Jon with pleasure and ease. After a while he wasn’t sure if the blood on his knuckles were Ramseys or his own. Beating the man made him feel peaceful. 

Taking a breath he sat up and looked around at his men. An eerie silence covered the grounds, all eyes on him. Half of them looked at him with respect while the others, with fear. Eventually it was Sansa who bought him back to reality. She stared at him unlike anyone else. Her smile was full of satisfaction, yet eyes with sorrow. Was it because of what he had become? Jon could not tell. Standing up he ordered two guards of Winterfell over to him. 

“My sister, Arya is here. Go find her, please.”

With a simple nod they were gone. 

Jon continued to give orders to his men, having no true experience of leading outside of Castle Black. He had to redeem Winterfell back to its original state, not just physically, but mentally too. After Ramsey, the people wouldn’t just accept him with open arms, even if he was the bastard son of Ned Stark. For years they had been put through horror and he knew that they would not want somebody that they didn’t know, trying to take control of the Castle. 

He would have to earn their trust. Thankfully, Jon had Sansa to deal with Winterfell in the meantime. Sansa was a true born Stark, daughter of Eddard and Catelyn. She would be accepted by the people.

In no time the yard was full of chatter as people emerged from their homes, rejoicing over Jons victory. They were free from the reign of the Boltens.

Eventually Ramsey, still alive, was dragged away to the kennels and the two men returned with a girl. This was the moment Jon had been waiting for, for the last six years. He was going to see Arya again. He felt tears of joy beginning to form along the brim of his eyes and couldn’t contain the smile that spread across his face. 

Looking at her, Jon noted that Arya had grown a surprising amount. She had went from the runt of the pack to being the same height as he was now. Jon tried to look into her eyes, but it was hard to, with a fringe going down to the top of her nose. As she neared, Jon saw the tears running down her cheeks. Jon felt his body clench, anxiety filling him.

Why was she crying? Did she not want to see him? As Arya reached Jon, the yard filled with silence once again. Jon lifted his hand and brushed the crusty hair out of her face. Looking into her eyes, his hope crumbled to pieces. Despair filling his soul.

Brown. Not the dark grey eyes of Aryas that he would recognise instantaneously. Looking at the girl, rage consumed his body. She had pretended to be Arya… How could she. His fists clenched while his jaw tightened. He tried to conceal his rage, but obviously wasn’t doing very well, seen from the fear on the girls face in front of him. 

“How could you,” Jon shouted, a tear dropping out of his eye in the midst of his anger. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl pleaded over and over. It came out broken in multiple sobs as she attempted to speak through her cries. Jon, clearly not satisfied by her response, had the girl carry on.

“I didn’t want to, Ramsey made me do it. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t.” 

Ramsey. It all came down to that piece of shit. 

“You should be thankful I don’t kill you right here. In fact, I could make a parade out of it.”

The girl continued to beg for her life. Jon would not harm, he wasn’t that type of person, but she didn’t know that. Because of this, he continued.

Speaking in a lower tone Jon continued to talk. 

“I have thought for years that my sister is lost, never to be seen again, but because of you, I had been given the hope that she was alive. Now you have tore that away from me. You have made me feel the pain of losing her all over again.”

“This will not go unpunished!” he shouted.

Cheers coming from the Wildlings, and cries from the people of Winterfell. 

A hand laid on Jons shoulder as he turned his head to find Sansa standing beside him. 

“Jeyne. Go to your room and fix yourself up,”

Jon, so consumed by his emotions hadn’t even realised who it was beforehand. He just knew that it wasn’t Arya. Not that he minded how he had treated her. He never liked Jeyne anyways. 

The girl rose from her knees, her dress now covered in mud. She muttered a low ‘thank-you’ and scrambled inside, followed by a servant girl. 

“You need to stay calm Jon. I know your hurt, but you can’t be threatening an already wounded girl in front of Winterfell's people.”

“It leaves a bad image,” Sansa added, leaning into his ear so that no-one else could hear.

Jon knew that she was right. He shouldn’t have said what he did, but that was done and gone. 

Sansa, once again was the one to break the tension.

“I’ll deal with the people. You can go take care of Ramsey to calm you down if you wish.”

Jon smiled.

“I’d love that,” he replied beginning to wonder if she was even more messed up then he was.

*****

A cold breeze lashed across Jons face as he peered over the walls of Winterfell. It had been a day since he liberated his father's people with the help of the Vale and Free Folk. He knew that he should be cheerful, content, even prideful, but how could he be after finding out that Arya was still missing. She was still alone out there somewhere, or worse. Dead.

He had told everyone that he had laid an attack on the Boltons to avenge his family, but deep down he knew the real reason why he did. He wanted to see his sister. He wanted to see her smile and muss her hair. He wanted to hug her and never let harm come to her again. At the wall when he was informed of Aryas survival, his heart filled with joy, even given the rough circumstances that Arya was said to be in. Being told that she was never married to Ramsey crushed him and almost made him lose his mind.

Now knowing that she wasn’t in Winterfell, the last word he had heard of her was when she was in King’s Landing with Sansa. Both his sisters had been captured by the Lannisters after his father’s beheading, and from what Sansa had told him they had been treated nicely. Since Joffery’s murder and Sansa’s escape with the help of littlefinger, the only word that had been heard of Arya was that she was married to Ramsey Bolton.

As his mind swam through his thoughts, Jon didn’t notice Tormund come up behind him.

“It’s cold out here Crow. The weather will kill you before the Lannisters can even have a chance if you stay out here.”

Jon smirked, as Tormund reached his side.

“You and me both know that a little cold won’t do me any harm Tormund. Living at the wall gets a man used to it. You would know about that.”

“Aye. All too well, but now my people are safe. We will not be trapped beyond the wall again. We will not be left to freeze, treated as if we were wild animals-”

“And I will not let you,” Jon interrupted. “You are safe here at Winterfell, free to stay as long as you desire.”

“Thats nice to know, but I do not think we will stay down here long. The free folk do not like living with the people who locked them beyond the wall for years. They prefer the cold, being born and raised in the snow. We will take our stay at Eastwatch soon.”

Jon nodded not taking offence by Tormunds words.

“When will you leave?” he asked.

“When the time is right and my people our ready to travel, most likely before the next moon.”

As sad as it was for Tormund to go, Jon knew it was for the best. Even though being left unspoken, they both knew the real reason for his leave. The people of Winterfell would not take the idea of living with Wildings very well. Even if they did save them.

“About the girl today,” Tormund spoke. “Your people did not take kindly to your actions.”

‘Great, back to this,’ Jon thought. He had already had a berating from Sansa once inside.

“I know it wasn’t right, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand Tormund. Arya has always been dear to me. Always close in my heart. When I found out the truth of the girl not being her, I broke. I snapped as easily as a twig and before I knew it, I didn’t have control of my emotions. It’s just for the best that Sansa stopped me before things got out of hand.”

Tormund stood silent for a moment before beginning to speak. 

“It can be hard Lord Crow, but as a leader you must control your emotions. As leader of the free folk I show every one of my men and women the respect they deserve, and in return I receive their gratitude. I receive the strength that I need to rule my people. Without that, I would be helpless.”

“You may be capable of controlling your emotions Tormund, but I can not say the same. At least not anymore.”

The wilding gave Jon a look of confusion, so he continued.

“Ever since I came back to life, I feel as if I don’t have control of my own body. I rarely eat, I rarely sleep, and when I do, it is no more than a few hours at a time. The knife that killed me, the knife that pierced my heart. When it was removed it took a part of my soul with it, replacing it with dark magic of the red priestess to keep me whole." 

"I do not understand how I am alive Tormund, but I will not complain. All I know is that I’m not the same bastard of Winterfell that I was beforehand.”

Tormund glared at Jon, obviously dazed by what he had said, unclear of what to say next. 

Jon had not told anyone about the aftermath of his resurrection, not even his sister. In some way, speaking to Tormund made him feel as if a weight he hadn’t known existed had been lifted off of his chest. His secret now exposed. 

Tormund spoke.

“Crow, I find a great way to clear the mind is by getting pissed drunk and forgetting your problems. How about we drink and let the red women worry about your problems.”

“Tormund, I’d love nothing more right now,” Jon laughed, the both of them going to find the closest mug of ale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed. :)


	3. Jon II

Winterfell 303 AC

Jon awoke to the sound of chatter in the yard below. A half moon had passed since he had reclaimed Winterfell yet he still wasn't used to waking up inside his old room. It had the same stoney walls, the same stoic atmosphere from before he left for the wall, but it was somehow different. Time had changed everything.

He sat up, brushing a hand through his curls, finding Ghost laying on the end of his bed as he always did.

"Come on boy, we have a busy day," Jon spoke, smiling as he pet the Dire Wolf.

He threw the thick sheets off of him and slid out of bed, pulling on his breeches. Once fully clothed he exited his bedchamber followed by Ghost at his heels. 

It was still early dawn, yet the castle was alive as ever. Servants rushed around preparing food, whilst children made way for their classes. Even if Winterfell’s appearance had changed from when he was last here, the people sure hadn’t. They still carried the same wholesome and joyous personalities with them.

Arriving at the serving hall, Jon entered, walking up the few steps to the royal table and taking a seat beside Sansa. Over the past week many lords had travelled to Winterfell. As he now looked around the room he noticed it was full of nobles and knights from across North, eager to discuss the plan of attack on Kings Landing. 

Ready to break his fast, a slice of mutton with a side of roasted potatoes and vegetables sat on his plate in front of him. If only he still had the appetite to eat it all. 

"Good morning Sansa, did you sleep well?"

“I slept great Jon, and you?”

“As well as can be expected,” he replied, knowing he barely slept a wink the night prior.

From the look on Sansa’s face he knew she could tell. 

“You need to stop stressing Jon. I know we have a kingdom to rule but you must get some rest.”

Jon smirked at that. If only she knew that it wasn’t stress keeping him up at night. It was his demons.

“I assure you that I’m fine Sansa. You don't have to worry for me. ”

As him and his sister ate their meals in silence, Jon noticed his sister glancing at him every few minutes. ‘What was she doing?’ As the meal went on, the chatter in the hall became louder. Eventually Lady Mormont; one of the many who had travelled to Winterfell, rose from her seat and approached the Starks. 

“Silence,” she shouted. The room quieted as lords looked at her, confused of what was about to happen.

“Soon we will be at war with the south. We will be avenging our fallen, avenging those that we have lost in battle to the Lannisters. House Mormont remembers. The North remembers. If we are to go to battle we need a ruler, a King, and we know no King, but the King in the North whose name is Stark. It does not matter if Jon Snow is a bastard. Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He is my King from this day, until his last.” 

Nobody spoke a word as Lady Mormont sat back down in her seat. Even Jon did not know how to react. To his luck, another lord stood and began to speak.

“House Glover has not stood by House Stark when you have been at your lowest, my Lord. We have refused your calls when you needed us. We did not fight beside you on the field, and I will regret that to my dying day. All I can ask is that you forgive us. Forgive us and let us swear our allegiance to our one true King. Jon Snow of the North!”

I cheer burst across the room as Jon started to speak. 

“There is nothing to forgive my lord.”

“Then let us all hail, the one true King in the North!”

I chant cut through the room.

“King in the North!”

“King in the North!”

“King in the North!”

‘What an odd way to start the day,’ Jon silently thought to himself.

*****

It was pitch black outside, deep into the morning. Jon stood looking out into the darkness from his bedchamber, a calm sensation flowing through his body. He did not enjoy being left to his thoughts. They were often dark, contemplating the worst, but what else was he supposed to do at this hour.

He thought of the past. Mostly of his family. Of his regrets of joining the Night's Watch, helpless as his Brother rode into battle and died. Helpless as his father was beheaded and his sisters captured.

He also thought of the present. Of his capture of Winterfell. Of him now being King of the North, responsible for hundreds of thousands of lives. Of where his beloved sister could be at this time, if she were even alive.

But most importantly, he thought of the future. He thought of his attack on Kings Landing and the white walkers beyond the wall. The image of them in Jon's mind sending a shiver down his spine, chilling his bones. Jon did not fear any man, but the creatures beyond the wall, they were not human. 

A knock at the door tore Jon from his thoughts. He waited a moment before answering. 'Who could be at my door at this hour?'

"Come in." 

As the door opened, Ser Davos Seaworth emerged from behind it.

"What brings you to my chambers at this time of night Ser Davos," Jon asked curiously. 

"Sorry to disrupt your rest your Grace-"

"It's fine, I wasn't sleeping," Jon cut off wanting the man to get to the purpose of his presence.

"A raven has arrived from Castle Black. Words of your brother Brandon." 

Jon's mind raced at the sound of his brothers name. Could he truly be alive? No word had been heard of him since he escaped Theon Greyjoy many moons ago.

"Let me see," Jon coughed out, grabbing the parchment out of Davos' hand. Still sealed, Sansa had not read it yet either. 

“Where is my sister,” Jon asked in a firm tone.

“She has been sent for and will be arriving any moment, your Grace.”

Not being able to keep his patience, Jon sent Ser Davos out. He unraveled the note, tearing off the black sigil of the Night’s Watch that kept it closed. Taking a deep breath, Jon looked at the letter and began to read.

 

To Sansa of house Stark and Jon Snow of Winterfell.

Do not fear for me my siblings, I am safe. I have returned from beyond the wall and have been welcomed at Castle Black. By the time you receive this message I will have already started my journey back to Winterfell where I must deliver some important news. I will be in your presence before the new moon. I look forward to meeting you again soon.

Yours sincerely, Brandon of House Stark. 

 

After finishing the letter, Jon let his thoughts take over his mind once more. Bran was alive, but how? Although Jon was grateful for the news of his brother he was in disbelief that Bran could’ve survived all those years in the snow. Who had helped him? He could not travel by himself.

Reading over the letter half a dozen more times only left him with more questions, when what he had hoped for was answers. Why had he been beyond the wall, and what was the news Bran had to tell them? If it was so important why couldn’t he tell them immediately in the letter?

It was hard to process all this information with the lack of words given. Jon had expected a long letter from his brother, full of his travels and how he fared. Instead he was left with a note that he could only explain in one word. Emotionless. His brother was writing to them as if they were complete strangers.

Sansa barged through the door, pulling him from his questions. Her hair was down and she still wore her sleeping gear. Jon did not see her often like this, but it somewhat annoyed him that she still looked so beautiful, minutes after waking up. 

“Let me see,” the redhead spoke sitting beside Jon on his bed. 

He handed her the letter, seeing that she was just as shocked as he was as she read.

“This makes no sense,” Sansa whispered in a low tone, her face still and pale. “Where has Bran been all this time.”

“I know as much as you do Sansa.”

As his sister began to shed tears of joy, Jon sat still and could not help but fear the worst. ‘What would this mean for the North?’

“Jon, are you not happy?” Sansa asked.

“What, why do you say that?”

“Well you look as if you have seen a ghost.”

Jon let a smile take his mouth, not realised what he had been frowning. 

“Of course I’m happy Sansa. It’s just that with Bran coming home, I do not know what the Lords of the North will make of it. He is a true born son of Ned Stark, and I am but a bastard.”

“Jon, you can not seriously be thinking about who will rule the North at this time. You have been told our brother is coming home and you can’t even feel happy about it.”

“I’m sorry if I’m not praising the return of our brother when it will only cause me harm. You know I would never hurt him, but he is now a threat to my Kingship of the North. At this time we are preparing to go to war and this will only create more of a delay.”

From the look of his sisters face she was obviously hurt. 

“When I met you again at the wall Jon, I knew you looked different, but I hoped you had the same heart. I hoped that you were still the same kind green-boy of fourteen that I knew. But I see that that is not true. You have changed.”

Stunned, Jon did not speak. Sansa rose from the bed and walked out the door, closing it behind her. He knew that she was right. He was not the same boy he had once been. He had been killed and brought back to life. That was something that no-one could come out of unchanged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write, so if any of it looks familiar it's because some of Lady Mormonts lines are copied from the show, haha. Make sure to leave a kudos and comment if you enjoyed.


	4. Arya II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the delay. I found this chapter rather hard to write. I hope you all like it.

Kings Landing 300 AC

It had been 3 years since her father was beheaded. After the Queen had gotten a hold of her, herself and Sansa had been told that they were to remain in the city as Ladies while the war progressed, but Arya knew better than that. She knew that they were simply hostages. Bargaining pieces, ready to be used at any given moment. Although she was only fourteen, she was wise for her age.

In her time at the Capital both her and Sansa had been treated poorly, particularly by Joffrey. He would always try to intimidate her, tell her that no-one would blink an eye if she went missing, that he could kill her and that would be the end of it. Arya did not fear his words. She knew that Cersei would never allow it, even if he were the King. 

Now she stood in the courtyard celebrating the man she hated most. It was the day of Joffrey’s Wedding. She was seated on a bench in the courtyard, next to other highborn daughters. On the stand up the front sat Joffrey, Margeary, Cersei, Tywin, Tyrion, Sansa, Tommen, and the Tyrells.

Throughout the day Arya made small talk with the Ladies around her about the events going on. There were duels and stories of all sorts, accustomed so that the Lannisters looked like the heroes of all the acts. At one point the Red Wedding was acted out. Arya knew it would have been ordered by Joffrey, just to torcher her and her sister. 

Eventually the young King got into an argument with Tyrion Lannister which ended up with a cup of wine over the Dwarf's head. 

Even with Arya's hatred for the Lannisters, she had to admit that the Imp wasn't so bad. He was the only one of them that had treated her like a human being since she was taken. Not to mention that he was now married to Sansa, making him her Brother through marriage. She did not like to think about that.

Joffrey started barking orders at the Dwarf next, demanding that he be his personal cupbearer. At this point, every eye in the courtyard was focused on the two.

The King took the full cup from Tyrion's hand and took a sip, smiling at the Imp. A few moments later Joffrey let out a cough, then another. The boy stumbled while his face began to change colour. 

"Move out of the way!" Arya heard someone yell.

"Get the boy some help," screamed another.

Joffrey was now on the floor, his face a deep purple with heavy veins running up his neck.  
Jaime Lannister rushed over to the boy, followed by Cersei and Tywin.

Blood ran out of the King's nose, while vomit out of his mouth. Arya could not help but hide the smile that creep along her face at the sight of this. She could hardly believe that it was real. Joffrey was dying right in front of her. The only thing that would have made this better was if it were done by her own hands.

"You!" Cersei shouted, pointing a gnarled finger at the Imp. "You did this. Guards seize him!"

The yard filled with anger towards the Dwarf as several Knights rushed the stand, grabbing the short man. Tyrion struggled and yelled, but he was no match for them.

Arya looked up at the stand, noticing that Sansa had left, knowing it was the smartest idea. About to do the same, Arya did not notice the Queen turn to face her now.

"And you," Cersei spat through her grit teeth. "You helped him, seize her too."

Arya's body clenched. She turned around beginning to run, but came short as she crashed into the metal chest plate of Jaime Lannister. The man grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to Cersei.

"Jaime. Put her in a cell."

*****

She woke. 

A candle sat in the corner of the room spreading a faint light across the cell. She sat up from the cobble floor, cold against her skin. The dungeon smelt like rot; so much that she could almost taste it. The only items in the room were a wooden bench to sleep and a bucket to do her business in. A dark oak door stood at the front of the cell with a barred window and a small flap at the bottom to give her food.

She did not know how long she had been in the cell. All she knew was that she had been taken by the Lannisters once again, but this time, the consequences would be much worse. This time, no-one would care what happened to her. 

‘It would be okay to die here,’ Arya thought to herself. She had no-one left to care for, no joy in her life. She had not felt real happiness since her father had been killed. 

Whenever she felt down, she would think of things that used to bring her joy. Things such as Jon. Of how he would use to hold her and let her cry into his arms when Sansa mocked her and called her names, but even that wouldn't bring her happiness in a time like this.

She did not know what had happened to his sister after Joffrey fell and choked and his own blood, but she did not care. She could not be being treated worse than her, assuming that she was taken too.

If the Queen walked into the cell right now she would not struggle. She would let herself be beheaded on the Sept, as was her father. It would be better than the alternative of living like this. 

Arya got off the floor and lay on the hard bed. The floor was damp and covered in filth, and as much as she hated to admit it, she had gotten accustomed to living like a Lady in the Red Keep. She still did not wish to be a Lady, she just enjoyed the luxuries that came with it. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off into a hopeless sleep.

*****

A loud creek brought her out of her deep sleep. She opened her eyes to see the large door opening. Arya sat up as two guards emerged from behind it. One tall, with a thick beard; the other, an average height, with a muscular build to make up for it.

It had been at least a day since she first woke, perhaps two. It was hard to tell time when she could not she the sky above. The only human contact she had was when someone threw her food through the bottom of the door.

"The Queen orders your presence," the shorter of the two spoke, as the other walked over and grabbed her by the arm. 

Arya rose to her feet. The guard brought his hand to his waist retrieving a pair of shackles and bound them around her hands. 

"What do you think I'm going to do? Murder her with my bare hands?" Arya asked, her voice full of sarcasm. 

No reply came, as she expected. Instead they turned and left the room,

They walked the rest of the way in silence before arriving at the Queen's chamber. 

The taller man pushed open the door as Arya and the other guard entered behind him. The three of them walked towards the centre of the room. Arya noticed that Cersei was not alone. Beside her stood the Mountain.

"Lady Arya of Winterfell, as you asked your Grace."

"Thank you," the Queen replied swiftly. "Leave us be."

The two men left the room, leaving Arya alone facing Cersei.

Her eyes were full of anger and she could tell that she was grinding her teeth behind her closed mouth.

Arya was not sure what to do. She stayed still in the middle of the room, trying not to show how nervous she was. 

“Well,” Cersei spoke. “My son is dead.”

Again, Arya was unsure of what to do. Did she expect her to comfort her?

Cersei continued to speak. “He was poisoned. By who, I do not know, but I expect that you and my wretched brother had something to do with it. If not, it were the North.”

“I had nothing to do with this Your Grace. I would never harm the King,” Ayra said.

The Queen smirked. They both knew it was a lie. Ayra would love to hurt the King if even the opportunity.

“Either way, your the one getting punished for the decisions that have been made.”

“Get it over with then, take my head," Arya snarled. "We both know that it wouldn't be unlike you to commit unrightful murder."

Cersei let out a laugh at her angered face. “I won’t be taking your life Stark. What I’m going to do will be much worse. It will make you wish that you were dead. In fact, it will make you wish that you were never born in the first place”

Arya stood motionless.

"Mountain. Fetch the kit," Cersei hissed while a smile crept along her face. 

The Mountain left to grab a giant box from the side of the room making Arya physically tense. What did she mean by 'the kit?' Although she wished to stay strong, her body did not comply. Her knees began to wobble and she let out a gulp which seemed to bring more pleasure to the Queens face. 

The Mountain returned with the box, laying it on the table in front of them. The man opened the case and Arya peered inside. It was full of all sorts of weapons. On one side there were knives, on the other, were small maces, with many other devices between the two. 

"So," Cersei spoke. "I've been thinking of what to do with you, but then it came to me. What would Joffrey want? Ever since you came to stay in King's Landing he had always wanted you to suffer, and now that your people have murdered him it would only be fair to give him what he has always wanted."

Arya was now terrified, and the Queen loved it. She did not want to give Cersei what she wanted, but she could not help it as a tear left her eye.

"Please…" Arya began, but the Queen cut her off.

"I do not want to hear your pleas girl. I want to hear you suffer for the acts that your people have committed. For the murder of my son!"

Lowering her voice back down, Cersei carried on. "Clegane, I'll let you do the honors."

"Thank-you, ya Grace," the Mountain snarled as he grabbed Arya, shoving her to the floor. 

Before she knew what was happening the man grabbed hold of her hair and dragged her across the room. Arya let out a scream but it was no use. No-one was coming to save her. 

The Mountain reached for her shirt and tore it off her, next hunching her over a table and tying her hands to the edges with rope. The man left to the weapon box and grabbed a large leather whip from inside, before returning to where Arya stood, bent over.

Closing her eyes, Arya prepared for what was coming. 

Letting out a grunt the Mountain swung towards her.

The crack of the whip along her bare back was more painful than anything she had ever felt. She let out a cry, then another and another after every strike. Tears streamed down her face and she could feel the blood drizzling down her back. 

After what seemed to be a dozen strikes the Queen spoke.

“Clegane, that's enough for now. Take the girl back to her cell.”

The Mountain did as she asked untying her hands, letting Arya fall to the floor. The man brought her to her feet and pulled her along when she did not move her feet. 

“Oh, and Arya,” Cersei continued. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

Arya left the room; the door slamming hard behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cersei has gone a little crazy. Also, make sure to leave some feedback on how you felt about this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment about your thoughts. It would be appreciated ;)


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